The Better Of Two Evils (open)

[Garrett Blade]

Eight months had passed since Garrett had been outside in the fresh Coruscant air. Or at least as fresh as air can get on a planet that perpetually produces smoke and fumes and waste and gases from its numberless inhabitants. Eight months had passed since he had been able to have a proper drink. Being able to only drink water day after day through a plastic tube that was fed through a padded wall was driving him insane. Eventually, he started biting and mutilating the tube just to be irritating. Eight months had passed since he last came in contact with another human being, aside from verbal communication through a tannoy system consisting of ceiling-mounted speakers and microphones. Eight months had passed since he last used the Force for anything. He was heavily sedated, and simply didn't have the strength of mind or even the energy to tap into his powers. It had been eight months of pure hell and torment which he was completely unprepared for and not expecting in the slightest.

It was all the result of a nasty joke on Tel'Mah's behalf. Garrett's alter-ego decided it would be mildly amusing to alert the local medical administration that a friend of his was insane. That friend was none other than Garrett himself. But Garrett was completely unaware of Tel'Mah, let alone what he was up to. So he found it very strange when a crack team of special forces troops raided his tenement building and captured him. Had he not been intoxicated beyond coherent physical movement he might have been able to evade detainment. But a heavy dose of drugs ensured he wouldn't wake up for a few days. When he awoke, he found himself feeling very drowsy and confined to a padded cell with a single door and a small spotlight in the centre of the room. He came to the early conclusion that the spotlight above him was far too impractical to effectively illuminate the room and so was merely for atmosphere when visitors peered inside the small viewport on the door.

His days in the asylum were very boring and very repetitive. He would sleep sixty percent of the time, only waking up to be fed and interviewed, as well as take the routine psychometric tests under armed supervision. One day when he awoke, the drugs had worn off enough to allow him to think a little, and so he used the opportunity to eavesdrop a conversation three floors up. He learned that this unfamiliar place was in fact an asylum for the criminally insane. Not only did that enrage him since he knew he wasn't insane, but he realised that he would have to get out since it would mean lobotomization or even execution in twelve months time. He also learned that by this time, he had been locked up for three months already. Usually, Garrett could not be worried by anything, but this played on his mind. He wasn't ready to die. He estimated that he had at least another few thousand years to live. Even if he didn't - he was determined to go out with a bang, not a lobotomy! He was a nut, not a catatonic! And to be a nut, he needs room, not a room. He would have to escape, but how?

One day, Garrett was escorted to a guarded room where he would be interviewed before several video camera's. The only difference from this interview to all the others he had been through was that he was fully aware of everything that was going on. Thanks to an outburst down the hall, complications had arisen and caused enough commotion amongst the staff that he was not administered his dose of drugs, and so had enough time before the interview to regain full cognition (or what he would regard as full cognition). Half way through the interview, something very unusual happened. He woke up. And not just from any normal sleep. He actually woke up. For the first time in years he was completely sane.

He knew it wouldn't last and that it had to be down to the treatment. What else could it be? He didn't have much time, and so acted without hesitation. Through his mastery of manipulation and necromancy, he subdued the guards and secured a room which housed various recording equipment. He locked himself inside, confident that he would not be found for some time. But why not just escape there and then?

He realised that he was far too weak, and would not succeed or even survive an escape. The best thing he could come up with was a message in a bottle. More specifically, a video message. Using a simple video recorder and a stool, he turned on the light and spoke...

"Hello.

It's been quite sometime since we last saw each other. And I'll be the first to admit that our last encounters didn't end as I would have liked. But we can talk about that at a later time.

I'll cut right to the chase. I need your help. Now I'll completely understand if you don't believe what I'm about to say, but I hope you will. Please believe me when I say I'm completely sane. At least for the time being anyway. I'm completely, utterly, totally, 100% pure sane! Don't ask me how, I'm not sure. It must have something to do with the drugs they've been giving me. I don't have much time so I'll have to be breif as my consciousness could crack at any moment.

I'm in some asylum for the criminally insane on Coruscant. I don't know the exact location. I was brought here by the authorities who were tipped off by Tel'Mah. If I don't get out soon I'll never get out. I need your help.

And I don't know what I was reading or where I found out, but there may be a way to bring me back permanently. There's some sort of facility somewhere in either the Galactic Core or the Outer Rim. That doesn't exactly narrow it down. Anyway - the technology located there may be able to restore my mind to coherent, logical, rational cognition - no more nonesense! A lot of this might sound far-fetched but you have to bear with me! I'll try to help you any way I can, though it won't be obvious - far from it. There's not a lot I can do in an unconscious state of mind, so you'll have to try and decypher what my crackpot-self says and does. It won't be easy, but then again what is in this galaxy!?"

He abruptly turned his attention towards the door. Struggling could be heard. They were right outside, probably searching for the key or trying to break the door down.

"Time's up. Please! Believe that I'm telling the truth. You HAVE to believe me. Remember, when you see me I won't have a clue what you're on about or why you'll have come. But if you start explaining everything I'll think you're crackers too. Find out whatever you can from me about this Muse person and try to play along so that I trust you. After all it's been a long time and I think I'd be a bit suspicious if you suddenly turned up out of the blue. Oh - one last thing, it might be handy to look for a guy named Ernest Baxter. He should be on Coruscant. If not, someone who knows him will be. I haven't the slightest clue who he is though. Not much help, am I? Heh!

This is a shot in the dark. I hope to see you soon!"

He stood up and shut off the recording. Turning to the console the camera was hooked up to, he began encrypting the message and stored it on a datadisc. The only way to get the message out was to disguise it as a psychological report. He made three copies and packed them away in security boxes. They wouldn't know the codes, but the Force would help them once they received the packages. He addressed each one separately. One to a professor Vargo Stim", another to a Hutt crimeboss, though he took a minute or two to quickly mark the datadisc's case with the ShadowFaene signature. And the final copy was addressed to a safety deposit box in a hotel on Coruscant under the alias Lilaena. Placing the packages in a shipment crate in the next room and sealing them up ready for transport, Garrett returned to the recording room and knocked the chair over, smashed the computer console and ripped up all the paper and forms he could get his hand son. As the door burst open on the other side of the partition, he threw himself on the floor and closed his eyes. Eight seconds later, three syringes plunged into his arm, leg and buttocks. He lasted about four to five minutes before he passed out completely. He caught a glimpse of the corridor before he was returned to his cell. It was rather spaceous and well lit - quite the opposite to the interior of his presidential suite. Guards patrolled the entire ward, armed with batons of some sort. He guessed that they were stun-batons or some similar device for controlling unruly patients. Although everything was black, he felt the floor hard on the side of his skull and down the left side of his body as he was thrown into his cell by Barney. Had it not been padded like the walls, he would have come out in a nasty bruise. The last conscious thought his sane mind conjured up was how his friends would react when, or rather if, they arrived to find him badly bruised, or worse. Then, everything went peaceful once again. When he awoke, the voices would start again. Just like old times.

[DarthHERA]

The message from the Illustrious Grand Hall of Geeda the Hutt had come to ShadowFaene, unsurprisingly, in the middle of the night. It had been marked "PRIORITY" to ensure the Faene Mistress would be roused immediately from sleep to reveive it.

And roused she had been.


For the first time in months, Hera was having a decent sleep. The Faene Mistress found more and more that she retired late and rose early, simply because she had no real peace of mind and repose did not come easily. Hera put it down to her lifestyle and did not allow herself to dwell as to the "whys" she battled with insomnia.

And now - she had been rudely awaken by a SFF crew member to respond to an urgent message from one of the leaders of the Hutt Crime Syndicate.

The unsightly vision of Geeda appeared in all her living technicolour slimefulness and Hera growled a greeting.

"What do you want, Geeda?"

"Dun dooda mos bido. Koom doono mubbaddo ed uubo doe
jawas"
(There is a crate here for you. Come get it or I sell it to the jawas)

And then, transmission ceased and she was gone. Short and sour.

So. The Hutt was still angry - even after all this time. Geeda would never forgive her for not killing Garrett blade, what? almost a year ago now. Hera had figured she would get over it with time, but seems it was not the case. Even though Hera had done runs for her for free to make it up. She'd even played Vargo against Gorgja to Geeda's lucritive benefit. But it was the insult that had remained.

That message had come 8 days ago and the SFF crew had only just this night returned to Enton from Ylesia from picking up the "said" crate.

Tonight, it again was the early hours of the morning and Hera had been robbed of sleep. But this was to a very different sort of message. And one indeed that should have been marked priority, instead of languishing on Geeda's dry dock for three weeks until the fat slug apraised her of the package's arrival.

Sitting in the quiet of her office on the SFF Base at Enton, the Sith Mistress reviewed the message for the 5th time. And one fact she was certain of...Blade looked like hell.

He appeared emaciated from his former self. Harrowed and haunted. A man who had lived with too much trial and deprivation for too long. It was a shocking change.

But despite his physical state, there was a mental clarity and fortitude that Hera had not seen in him during the last few encounters she'd had with him - One time with s'Ilancy and more recently during the Geeda escapade. This last, especially had been tremendously stressful and confusing. But his eyes now had an absence of malice and lacked the Tel Mah derrangement, despite the shadows and deep hollows of his drawn face. And it was to this hope that she yet again watched the recording.

Four weeks... It had been four weeks since this message was sent! Hera wondered if he were even still alive.

And there was only one way to find out and one person who could help.

"Ernest Baxter"

.......Whoever the frell that was.....

[Lilaena De'Ville]

Lilaena scrubbed sleep out of her eyes as she blearly stared at the comm, having just switched it off from a strange conversation. Or maybe she'd only dreamed the conversation, and it was just now about to happen...

The Dark Jedi leaned heavily on her elbow, and poked half heartedly at the comm, seeing if it was on or off. Off.

What had it been, then?

There was a ghostly afterimage in her vision, as though she'd been staring at a black pattern on a white wall for too long. She couldn't look directly at it, it slid away to the side whenever she tried to, but the pattern looked like...

... a face. She closed her eyes once more, and tried to remember her dream.

"I need your help." The face belonged to Blade. She hadn't seen him in over a year.

"How can I help?" She didn't question why should I help, because it didn't matter. She was going to help. She had to. It was him, after all.

"Coruscant. In a hotel. You'll know the name of it." There were no images now, just a blurry smear that seemed to be talking. "Hurry please, haven't got all day!" The last words sounded much less serious, and a little manic.

Lilaena opened her eyes, wondering why she'd had a dream about Garrett Blade. Her blood seemed to boil, not from anger, but from memory. It rushed in her ears, making her feel slightly lightheaded.

But she had to go. Even though the thought of returning again to Coruscant for anything to do with Blade filled her with an intense dread. But that wasn't the point here. She had no choice.

The Dark Jedi plotted a course for the Core.

[Vargo Stim]

It had been two weeks since the incident. Two whole weeks, Vargo thought, and only now was he granted access to one of the most intriguing and curiously anonymous patients at the famous Paros-Zanna Psychiatric Centre for the Criminally Insane. Of course, the recently licensed therapist had been involved with another patient upstairs and not yet having much weight in his field to throw around he had to wait, with baited breath, for clearance. Unfortunately, the sight which greeted him in the padded cell was a disappointment. Patient 200984 was as similarly underwhelming as all the others; sedate and pitifully lifeless.

‘Oh fudge, how can he--’

‘The patient, Stim.’

‘Sorry. How can the patient be treated when he is in such a--’

All eyes were focused on him now. He fumbled with his words with a brief stutter.

‘—Untreatable state, sir?’

Vargo Stim was the type of man who goes unnoticed day by day and, if ill fortune ever struck, would go unmissed. The audience he attracts is either painfully indifferent or downright neglectful of a man whose neatly combed head is bursting with intelligence and void of common sense. He is quite short but broad shouldered and unbearably clumsy, in fact, if it weren’t for the chaos he creates in his wake from Point A to Point B then he’d be as good as invisible. Nevertheless, the reactions he provoked from others seemed to have little to no effect on him for he either has skin an inch thick or is too idle to notice how he is treated. Suffice it to say he does nothing about it.

‘If this--’ The head of department, Dr. Lithargo, paused as though carefully thinking about how to describe the silent patient, ‘—Monster was ever allowed a moment of freedom, be it physical or mental, then the chances are that heads will roll and if not by his hand then by my superiors’ hand.’

‘But they, well, they didn’t last time, sir.’ Vargo noted, breaking the furious eye contact with Dr. Lithargo to peek through the thick glass into the ominous, dimly lit cell. He pushed his large glasses further up on his nose and smiled.

‘Well, thankfully, the higher-ups believe in second chances. I on the other hand don’t so you’ve one shot at this, Stim, don’t screw it up.’

‘Thank you, sir.’ Replied Vargo, but the doctor was already stomping away up the dark corridor so he gave a little wave instead, despite his back being turned. His attention turned back to the chief attendant, Barney, who was a hulk of a man and had a face like thunder. Vargo smiled and his already extended hand forced the attendant to shake hands with him although he didn’t share the professor’s enthusiasm. After a brief introduction, Barney led him up a set of narrow stairs and into a dark room with a table, a chair, a control panel and a com-link. Vargo was then given a thorough induction on how to operate the equipment despite having explained to Barney that he was very familiar with it but he thanked the attendant for his assistance anyway.

Once Barney had left, Vargo checked his chronometer, made several notes then began what would, for the best part at least, be a very once-sided interview with Patient 200984.

[Garrett Blade]

As he sat with his mind in limbo, the solitary pointless spotlight above him blinked on, illuminating the room as uselessly as ever. He smirked. Garrett was somewhat aware of what was going on around him. Whenever the light came on, he knew it meant that somebody was outside looking in at him. Occasionally, that warranted that he might have to say something, depending on whether or not they asked him anything. He couldn't always understand what they said. But then again, they couldn't always understand what he said, nor could he. He didn't know what the staff here were pumping into him each day, but whatever it was it had a marvellous ability to make him lose control of most muscles in his body. Being strapped into a large padded chair was the only thing keeping him upright. People looking inside the cell might mistaken it for some kind of execution chamber. As far as Garrett was concerned, it was.

He tried to focus his eyes, but it was useless. The blurry images that never went away unless he closed his eyes gave him a headache. But if he wasn't asleep then that also gave him a headache. Just his luck! As it was now, Garrett had no memory of sending the messages to his friends. So naturally, he wasn't expecting or hoping for any helpful visitors any time soon. He also couldn't care less what happened to himself. Anything was better than this.

[DarthHERA]

Coruscant never failed to impress. The planet-city's sheer magnitude boggled the mind with its unending vista of buildings all clamouring jealously for their own space as they resentfully crowded out the afternoon sun. The continual flow of traffic in the space lanes, endless lights in perpetual motion, insects on their incessant journeys. It was a breathing, seething monster that never slept. It had something for everyone, was home to anyone.

And hopefully, with luck, it was still home to Ernest Baxter.

The man in question had not shown up in any of Hera's initial searches. He either was not in the "game" - part of the criminal underworld like she was, or else he played his hand extremely close to his chest, like some of the more successful scum. Talon Karrde had operated much this way. Kimiiki Crei was another.

So she had determined to go another route - a semi- legitimate route, to begin with - hoping to have better luck.

The turbolift ran the full length of the outside of the 125 story P & T Building, and the offices of Mirko Spendrim was on floor 114. It took a full 8 minutes for the trip to be completed - so many morons kept getting on and off.

Stepping from the interior of the lift and onto the tiled surface of floor 114, Hera walked directly to Mirkos office, and let herself in.

For such a prestigious location, the office of Mssr. M. Spendrim was a dismal contrast. Even his secretary had an air of drab disappointment about her, and the wobble of the office chair as she rolled back from a standup filing cabinet was almost comical.

".....'e's thru there. No,not there, there"

Hera obediently shifted direction from the coffee-room to Mirko's office and walked on through. The man who greeted her was not much more inspiring than the wobbling chair in the outer office.

The small room was cluttered with all kinds of junk. Engine parts, books, incidentals. Hera even noticed a toothbrush that was connected to a power pack. Her arched eyebrow expressed her perplexed thoughts as to just what the heck kind of information broker was this guy..



http://abberition.homestead.com/files/marko.jpg

He didnt stop viewing his trinket, but waved Hera on in.



"Sit, sit..Ill be right with ya. NO! Not there.." he pointed at a torn old stuffed leather chair whose inards were exposed, "...There. Ill be just, just..just one minute."

Shoving off a greasy motor cog, Hera placed herself in its place on the chair and watched on in morbid fascination. She had already made up her mind. She wasnt going to get anywhere here.

[Lilaena De'Ville]

De'Ville sat quietly in the private room the bank had let her use, going over the holo that had been left in the safe deposit box. She'd been able to find the bank with hardly any problems...she had indeed known the name. Once she'd landed on Coruscant Lilaena had looked up a list of banks in the main Coruscant City Directory. The Sane Choice Savings and Loan had stood out, and sure enough, there was a safe deposit box under her name.

Lilaena.

And now she had another name, Ernest Baxter. She sighed, and pocketed the holo, getting up and returning the empty box to the bank officials. They smiled politely, and after she left they wondered amongst themselves about the extremely thin, slightly wan looking woman who'd been in. She really didn't care. They only had her first name, and no one would be calling the Jedi to alert them that a Dark Jedi was on Coruscant.

No one cared. She walked down a pedway, letting the crowd carry her along as she wondered about the holo message. Clearly Garrett was in trouble. However, she'd already saved his life once, twice was pushing it a little.

Yet he had saved her life once as well. Or twice even, if you counted the situation he had caused. She frowned, her head starting to hurt at the memories of that horrific experience here on this same planet. Something about a Dar'Kal'arth... she still wasn't sure what it was that had caused the intense maelstorm of power she had been the center of. Well, besides Garrett, that is. Of course it had been all his fault.

She slipped into a comm booth, touching the liquid crystal screen and bringing up the City Directory once more. De'Ville sighed as she saw all the BAXTER listings, and then she fed a few credits into the comm, and dialed Information.

"Coruscant Information, what sector please?

"Uh...I think Sector Nine Oh Five." She used the sector she was standing in, just on the off chance she was going to get lucky.

"And what are you trying to reach?" Gods she sounded bored.

"I'm looking for an Ernest Baxter? Do you have a listing for one in this sector?"

"Hold please."

Lilaena leaned against the inside of the booth, watching the crowds walk by as she waited.

[Mirko Spendrim]

"Oh..its lovely, lovely. Perfect form and flawless, yes flawless."

Hera pursed her lips and exhaled loudly, while Mirko stood, enthralling at the Undurian Pearl beneath the magnifiying monacle.

She made as if to speak, but Mirko interupted her.

"They're rare, yes rare. Not easy to come by. And now I have one. Its mine." Without pausing to catch breath, he shifted topics. "Baxter is a common name. Thousands of them in in Coruscant alone. Hundreds of hundreds. Ernest - his first name helped narrow things down, made the search smaller. But still, it hasnt been easy. Its been hard."

Hera scratched her head and shifted her eyes about but remained silent. She wasnt a chatty one, this one.


"But what I did find out, learn, about him is that he is friends with Tony Defabo - the Casino King of downtown Sarbi. I know a few of his guys." He took the magnifying monacle from his eye and looked at Hera directly now.
"Friends, buddies like. They'll tell me how to get in contact with Baxter. But I need a bit more time. You cant rush, hurry, these guys. Im meeting them in an hour, sixty minutes, and then after that, Illl meet you. You know "Sams on Fifth? It's on Fifth Ave."
The blond nodded that she did.

"Ill meet you there, you can buy me dinner, my evening meal, and Ill have the information you want, would like."

The Sith stood - her facial expression had not changed, but had remained in an almost furrowed disbelieving expression all the while she was here.

Mirko rolled his mis-matched eyes when she closed the door behind her. Coruscant was full of odd dames, women.

[Vargo Stim]

Vargo was frustrated, in fact it was worse than that: he was downright disappointed. He was consumed with self-loathing as he stomped away from the holding cell of Patien 200984, his briefcase swung back and forth with such force that it looked like it was going to come loose from it's handle. His interview with the patient had been fruitless and his failure shamed hiom, no-one had been able to get through to Garrett Blade yet that wasn't the point, he was a professional who was unable to do his job. He was off the case and wouldn't be allowed back there again, there was only one comfort; at least he knew that Garrett was alright.

"Stim, Vargo." He barked at the panel next to the doors leading out of the ward. There was a 'bing' accompanied by a green light and the doors slid away from each other and he stormed out. He pulled his tie from his shirt and shoved it into his jacket pocket then swept through the security sensors which began screaming and flashing. Vargo continued unphased but pulled out his silver pen and threw it behind him - it was always his pen which sets the alarm off and the gaurds knew it, they just liked wasting his time - the professor had almost reached the doors leading out onto the street when he stepped sure-footed into a wet patch on the floor where the cleaners had begun mopping. His feet were up in the air before he knew it, along with his briefcase, he hit the damp floor with a crash and his briefcase came down upon the back of the security gaurds head who had been bending down to retrieve Vargo's discarded pen. He collapsed to the floor, out cold, and landed on the cleaners bucket thus turning it over and covering the expensive floor in a pool of concentrated cleaning agent. The cleaner screamed and ran to get help and grumbling, Vargo climbed to his feet, adjusted his glasses, straightened his suit and fled the scene. In his briefcase, Patient 200984's confidential file and wrapped in his tie the security gaurd's clearance card.

"Hmm. Not a waste of a day after all."

[Lilaena De'Ville]

"There is a listed Ernest Baxter in that sector, would you like to be connected? There is a half cred connection fee - "

"Yes, connect me through." De'Ville absently tapped two fingers on the plexiglass that surrounded her, filling the air with a constant sound.

There was a brief burst of quiet static in her ears and then a voice.

"Hello?"

"Ernest Baxter?" Lilaena stood up straighter, her fingers stopping their incessant rapping.

"Yes...who is this?"

"A friend of Garrett Blade's. Do you know him well?" She mentally crossed her fingers.

[DarthHERA]

Sam's on Fifth was as nondescript and unimaginative a place as a person could hope to find. Their main claim to fame, other than having the ugliest servers Hera had ever seen, was that they made great ribs.

Hera couldnt argue with this as she sucked the rum and apricot sauce off her fingers and droped the last of a second helping of ribs on her plate with a clang.

She stretched back with satisfaction as she finished her corellian ale, just as Mirko meandered his cross-eyed way over to her table.

It was painful to watch. He bumped and bumbled and excused his way through the crowded little restaurant. Hera hoped he would manage to avoid being stabbed or gutted before he could give her the information she had come for.

Finally, he stood before her grinning toothily.

She spared him a welcoming smile as she bobbed her head a little from left to right. "Hello Mirko...which eye do I talk to?"

[Mirko Spendrim]

"Take your pick, your choice. I can see perfectly out of both, out of either, just not when I look, focus, at the same thing with both at once, together."

Mirko took a seat and handed Hera peice of paper with Ernest Baxter's current residence on it, which she took and read.

"He's there. I mean, right now. At home, where he lives, probably having dinner. I checked, made sure. Mirko Spender only gives the best and up-to-date, current, information! Tell your friends."

Mirko looked at the remains on Hera's plate, and also at the menu on the other side of it. Picking it up, he kept one eye on the Sith as he read the first page with the other.

Hera dropped a small pouch which was bulging with credits as she stood up from the table. It was obvious she was not going to be joining him to eat. She thanked him for delivering as promised and wished him "bon apetite."

He twisted in his chair to call after her cheerily.

"Remember! Dont forget! Tell all your friends! Mirko Spendrim - Current, up-to-date!"

As she disappeared through the restaurant doors, Mirko, continued to read the menu with one eye, and pondered what in the universe was "bon apetite."


*************************************

As Hera arrived at Baxter's residence twenty minutes later, she was left to wait outside his door for him to answer it..

Apparently, he was on the comm.

[Gav Mortis]

Time Passes.

It was true that to each of these individuals, Garrett Blade was considered a comrade and one not to be left to the mercy of monotonous interviews, crippling drugs and relentless mind probes but nevertheless, while De’Ville, Hera and Gav stared at their fellow Darksider, strapped tight to his bed of padded durasteel, they each couldn’t help but wonder why the damn clown had to be so bloody huge. Blade’s monstrous body stretched across two hospital beds and even when he was flat on his back, still looked like the type of man who could eat a young rancor for breakfast. And considering Garrett, Gav thought, that wasn’t such a stretch of the imagination. He sighed in the dark and looked across to the silhouetted shapes of Hera and De’Ville.

“I think we should’ve thought this bit through some more.” He said in defeat, grumbling something about female logic then joined the women as they untied the straps which secured the mammoth madman to his bed. They had a repulsor bed hovering next to the hospital bed(s) and now looking at it, alongside its passenger-to-be, it looked like it would be needing wheels very soon. The emergency lighting kicked in and the padded cell was illuminated in a dim red glow which meant that time was quickly running out. “It won’t take them long to replace the security guards you two annihilated on this floor with, might I add, less than discretional means.”

Gav found amidst his complaining that he had said too much. Both women stared at him and as quickly as possible, he headed for the door, making sure to not look too intimidated by the Oestrogen Queens. If they didn’t kill him for his complaining, they definitely would if they knew what he called them! With every intention of reclaiming any lost shreds of masculinity in his escape, he stopped at the door and cleared his throat, informing them: “I’m just going to check on those turbolifts.”

Then disappeared.

[Lilaena De'Ville]

De'Ville flexed her hand, popping a few knuckles, and looked over her shoulder at the departing Mortis. Without a word she returned her gaze to the man on the beds, and closed her eyes, concentrating in the Force.

Hera pushed the repulsor bed close to Garrett as De'Ville leviated his huge body. "He is right, we will have to hurry before reinforcements arrive." Blade settled on the repulsor bed, which dipped low and groaned disconcertingly.

[DarthHERA]

"Well I'm sure if Gav runs into any more sentries," Hera replied dryly as she lifted Garrett's hand which kept sliding off the edge of the hoverbed to flap annoyingly in the vacant air, placing it back onto his chest, "he'll complain them to death before they ever to get bother us."

There was a decided clash of personalities between Mortis and the Faene Mistress. De'Ville, having known Gav from the early days and being friends with Hera almost as long, had been playing mediator between the two of them ever since they embarked on their joint-rescue effort.

"Is he always like that?" she asked her Dark Jedi counterpart as they walked beside the unconscious Blade, speaking over him as if he were no more than a bump on a log. Lilaena quizzeled an eyebrow in question and so Hera elaborated. "You know...bossy...?"

[Garrett Blade]

It was extremely foggy. No, it was more hazy than foggy. Not quite purple, but a very faint lilac-grey. Images in the distance were obfuscated either by the haze, heat or some other unknown means. His headache was unbearable. His bare feet squished into the ground. It felt very unstable. He felt like he was walking over a gigantic Hutt's body. It was disgusting. Merely because of the thought of Hutts. Garrett couldn't abide Hutts. He walked, with that thought of Hutts, into the haze; heading towards the only blur large enough to transgress the horizon and into the grey storm-stuffed sky. It was big and bloated, and very far away. He had no idea where he was or what the blur was.

"Where's a cab when you need one!?"

His complaining didn't end there. He never stopped his relentlessy obscene denouncements regarding his situation. His blistered feet began to hurt beyond comprehension. Which was understandable given that the ground he now walked upon had grizzly hair-like barbs protruding upwards. Or were they barb-like hairs? He pondered until his head hurt more and dismissed the idea until a later time.

Blade...

It was Lilaena. He could see her. Through the haze, he was barely able to comprehend her image. She was naked, and her skin unnaturally white, even chalk-like. She beckoned him futher into the haze. Where was she leading him. Actually, never mind that. What was she doing here? Women have a nasty habit of making an appearance in Garretts dreams wearing their birthday suits, and they always led to very strange things. Just beyond him, the barbs grew thicker and larger.

"Pain for pleasure."

On he walked. As he approached, she turned and ran away. He followed her, wincing at the barbs damning the souls of his feet more and more. The haze was very thick now, and very hard to see through. Lilaena disappeared and reappeared into and out of his view constantly. Keeping up with her by the skin of his teeth, he kept on running, deeper into the haze. Deeper into the back of his mind. Closer to the truth. Or so he hoped.

[Gav Mortis]

In the corridoor outside Blade's cell, the ground was littered with bodies of dead security personell and in the red glow of emergency lighting they looked eerie and haunting. A reminder that regardless of power cuts, the building was alerted to their presence and would probably have a fair idea of what they were up to. Gav had joined the two women moments after they had broken into the cell and his turbolift was still there, the doors still open.

At the other end of the corridoor was another turbolift which as indicated on the panel next to it was on the ground floor so the moment the power came on a dozen guards would storm inside and make their way up to intercept the unwelcome guests. Anticipating this, Gav picked up a limp corpse and dropped into in the doorway to the open turbolift; with the body obstructing the way the doors wouldn't be able to close providing the Darksiders to escape with relative ease. Or so he thought.

"Freeze!" Cried one of the six guards who'd just barged through a door leading to the stairway, inwardly Gav smiled at the thought of six burly guards having to sprint up eight flights of stairs then be expected to take on three accomplished Darksiders. "Don't move!"

But it was too late, a red blade of light leapt out of the cylinder in Gav's hand as he began deflecting blaster bolts. Then in the most light-hearted voice, he called. "Oh ladies?"

[Lilaena De'Ville]

"Bossy? You have no idea." De'Ville almost smiled, but she heard Gav calling to them from down the hallway. She nodded to the ShadowFaene mistress, "He probably needs help. I will bring Blade."

She steadied the repulsor bed as blaster bolts splattered on the wall by her head. Frack, where had they come from? Now there were guards behind them and in front of them. Gav had the ones in front, and Hera turned to take the newest threat. De'Ville dug her heels in and began to run, shoving the bed along in front of her and keeping Blade on it with the Force.

"How were we getting him down the stairs, again?" She was enjoying this. Too much, probably.

[DarthHERA]

Hera force-pushed one of the oncoming attackers, tossing him airborne effotlessly to crash against the wall, while unclipping her lightsaber and igniting it in smooth fluid motion. A brilliant blue blade sprung from the hilt and hummed loudly.

"Use the service elevator at the north end of the corridor" she tossed to De'Ville over her shoulder.

A blaster bolt from Gav's deflection caught another of the attacking security forces square in the head, removing him as a direct threat to Hera. The corpse took two zombified steps in its forward momentum before dropping in that awkward way that confirms all life gone from the body.

The other two attackers faltered a step, and the Faene mistress laughed at them.

"Too late, lads. You've already joined the fray."

Jumping between the two, she ignited the second light blade from her dual saber, twirling it lethally.

"Time to make the supreme sacrifice" she admonished.

Both combatants attacked her at once, and with lightening reflexes, (she even added an extra flourish to impress Mortis, but he had not been watching) she spun once, slashed the first man's torso cross-wise, his accompaning howl punctuating the hit - and then jabbed backwards and up without turning her head, impaling the second man in the chest. The singing, sizzling noise was enough to let her know that one was dead too.

As the fourth guard struggled up from his crash into the wall, Hera took the blaster from her side and shot him in the head too.

All in all, quite neatly done.

"When your'e ready Mortis, you think we could move things along a little..? No need to dilly-dally."

[Garrett Blade]

He walked for hours. But the closer he got to Lilaena, the further away she went. Through the fog he walked, never stopping once. His feet ached. After a timeless period he called out to her, slightly angry at her ignorance.

"Lilly! Where the hell are we!?!?"

As his voice echoed around the two of them, the ground shook. The barbs in the ground becan to vibrate, lacerating his feet and adding to the already overwhelming pain. he fog began to swirl around them until they couldn't see anything. Then, it billowed up and out from them. The tornado grew bigger and bigger until Garrett looked up and saw the grey sky above them once more. Then the fog receded completely, backing away as if avoiding him. It retreated far into the distance in the blink of an eye. He looked to Lilaena.

"Are we there yet?"

He surveyed the landscape. It was very barren, with the occasional outcropping of flesh-like boulders and rocks. It was as if the very earth he walked upon was dead and rotting. He looke dback to Lilaena, who was once again walking like she had a mission. He followed her to an immense ditch in the ground. The sides of the ditch were aligned with deadly spears. They were black and shiny. They glistened in the sun as if they were wet. The spears protruded from what looked like large blisters in the sides of the living ditch. The ground in the ditch itself was rusty-coloured. Upon closer examination Garrett discovered that it was actually more bloody than rusty. Scabs and lacerations covered the ground, with the occasional gaping wound. He looked up and down the ditch. he had no idea if he was looking north and south, east and west, or even if it was a horizontal plane at all. The ditch just carried on and on without ever coming to an end. But Lilaena must have knew something, since she'd already picked a direction to walk in. Without arguing, Garrett began jogging after her.

"Are we there yet?"

As he jogged, Garrett noticed other living inhabitants of this strange place. There were small creatures (if you could call them that) with four legs and a mouth full of razor sharp teeth on a fattish stork. And there were arachnid-like things on the walls of the ditch, hiding in between the spears. They had long leathery tails and eight digits on their bodies. And when he looked up he saw the occasional flyer. They had four wings and two heads and three tails with sharp barbs on the end. And beneath the spears, hidden in the shade provided by the large blisters, were carnivorous plant-like things. Covered in blood and secreting it constantly, the plants tubular roots were lined with nettles and had mouths on the ends. A main, central mouth could be seen amidst the roots, vines and teeth. It was at least twice the size of an R2 unit. An unfortunate arachnid that scuttled too close to one of them was quickly gobbled up. To say the least, the ecosystem was extremely deadly.

Awe-struck, Garrett carried on, trying his best to keep up with Lilaena. He shouted after her...

"Are we there yet?"

[Gav Mortis]

"Dilly-dally?" Gav shot back incredulously, staring at Hera before pulling his lightsaber out of the sizzling skull of his last victim. He scoffed and the corpse in the turbolift doorway was suddenly animated and launched itself down the corridoor, although he hadn't intentionally aimed the bloody corpse at Hera. She dodged it and he couldn't help but grin in amusement.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry about that." He said in a sickeningly sweet appologetic tone. He gave Hera and De'Ville a slight bow and gestured humbly to the service elevator. "Ladies first, of course."

[DarthHERA]

Stepping into the elevator behind De'Ville and the hoverbed, Hera's scowl was still in place as she turned her back to Mortis coming in behind her. She could still feel his smirking eyes and repressed laughter.

Blade murmered in his delerium and Hera suggested they bind his hands, and maybe his mouth too, for stealth sake should they require it later on.

She felt, rather than heard, her companion's dislike of her suggestion.

In her own defence, she stated blandly, "Blade might wake up and be Tel Mah. Ive met the alter-ego and the guy is a shraknod (an expleteive she picked up on Enton). He's violent and completely unreasonable and throws a demolishing left hook. Im not in the mood for it should he surface. Trust me, we need to bind him"

[Lilaena De'Ville]

De'Ville glared at her. "I can handle him. Do you really want to be around when he realizes he needs to use the Force to get free from us?" She put a hand on the big man's forehead as Gav stepped inside and pushed the button for the first floor.

"Going down."

[DarthHERA]

Hera looked at De'Ville, and then obstinately turned back to face the elevator doors.

"Your funeral"

The lift rapidly descended.

Well, this ought to be fun.

[Garrett Blade]

After endless hours upon hours of constant running, the misty fog and the foggy mist was finally beginning to let up. It had gotten to the point where it was so thick that Garrett had been breathing the damn stuff in. It tasted like starfighter fuel. And yes, before you ask - Garrett does know the taste of starfighter fuel! But thats another story. He had lost sight of Lilly now, but he could hear her footsteps on the squishy ground beneath them. By the sound if it, she wasn't too far ahead. Garrett also noticed that she'd slowed down gradually over the past ten minutes. He assumed they must be drawing nearer to whatever it was she wanted to show him.

"Are we there yet!?"

He tripped over something as he ran. It felt hard, like some kind of rock. Either that or it was Lilly punishing him for his monotonous whining every five minutes. He stood back up quickly as if nothing had happened, taking a quick look around to see if anybody had noticed, then carried on running.

[Gav Mortis]

As the lift descended, Gav delved into the backpack he had been carrying and pulled out a large blanket, three long, white coats and a fragmentation grenade. He stood and handed De'Ville and Hera a coat each with a pleasant grin, he was in his element now and slipped the coat on, asking them to follow suit.

"I imagine there's going to be a fair number of heavily armed people down there but not to worry. Excuse me Garrett."

Casually, Gav pushed the enormous dead weight off the trolley and onto the floor, greatly reducing their room in the lift. The ladies didn't approve.

"Hera, could you tape this grenade to the trolley and cover it with the blanket? De'Ville, when we get down there I'll need you to run out of the lift with me and play the part of Terrified Doctor 1 and I'll be Terrified Doctor 2. Hera, you need to push the trolley out and here, you can have the pleasure."

Beaming, he held out his hand and in it was a remote detonator.

"We're going to have so much fun!"

[DarthHERA]

Hera did as she was told.

She looked down at Garret's prone form, uncerimoniously thrust to its new place of repose. Pity he was out of it. Hera thought Blade would have enjoyined dressing up and pantomiming a frantic physician before a live audiance. He would have over-dramatiased for sure.

LD and Gav slipped on their coats and Hera accepted the detonator with a smile.

Alright, good plan.

The elevator doors slid open.